The Scars that Never Heal
by AngelRays95
Summary: Hermione lives in the Muggle world now, working in a Muggle shop, and living a Muggle life. That is until she meets Draco Malfoy again, and suddenly her normal, calm existence is turned upside down. What will she do with this wreck of a man asking her for help? And how will Ron react if he ever finds out?
1. Just One Of Those Days

Just One of Those Days… Weeks… Months…

She was harassed. She had tried deep breathing, slowing her pace, even sitting down on a park bench, but nothing was working. It wasn't really her fault – it just so happened that today was simply one of those days where nothing went right. But (and Hermione had never really considered herself a pessimist) things hadn't exactly been going right for a while now. She was twenty-one, officially an adult, and yet she felt like a lost child, dazed and bewildered in a sea of mature and fiercely ambitious people, with no plans or clear path ahead of her. When had everything gone so haywire?

Sighing, Hermione pushed the strap of her bag back up onto her shoulder and continued the tedious journey towards her one bedroom flat. It was a muggle house, something the rest of her friends found both amusing and confusing, but she had always been used to both worlds, and had for some time now been rather content with reverting back to old, muggle ways. She would never say that she disliked magic, but after everything that had happened, 'magic' just didn't conjure up the same awe and inspiration that it once had for her. Now the word tasted bitter in her mouth, like something nasty or dirty. Magic had been the cause of so much pain and bloodshed, and for a few years at least, she was happier being without it.

That being said, she could really have used a broom to get her safely within her own four walls again. She had been on her feet all day, her back ached from the weight of her bag, and she could feel her eyelids sagging from exhaustion. Twenty-one years old, and she felt more like eighty.

Rounding another corner, her heart gave a little leap at the sight of the tree-lined lane in front of her. No matter the season, this lane always looked beautiful to her. Just now, in late September, the trees blazed crimson and amber, fiery leaves coating the pavement and cobbled road like a flaming carpet. This was real magic, she thought as she shuffled through the dense cover of leaves, her leather boots creating a symphony of rustling as she made her way towards the final bend.

The sky had turned a slate grey since she had begun her long walk home, and Hermione knew instinctively that tonight was going to bring a ferocious storm. It was at times like this that she missed the company of another, warm body curled next to her, even if it was just to offer a strong arm to tuck herself under or a soft hand to tightly grasp. But there was no use dwelling on such romantic nonsense. Who would she even want, in any case? Ron? The thought was both laughable and uncomfortable, and Hermione actually cringed from thinking about it. She loved him, she really did, but he was a brother and a friend to her. Whatever relationship they may or may not have had was extinguished well and truly when Ron started his new job with Harry. Things had changed so much already, and they had both come to a mutual understanding that the one thing they never wanted to change was their friendship. It was odd, because while both Hermione and Ron had felt so much more relieved after this revelation, everyone else was devastated.

"But what about the children!" Mrs Weasley had cried out when they were first told, looking to a rather disappointed Ginny who simply shrugged and shook her head.

"What children?" Ron had replied incredulously, standing a little closer to Hermione for support rather than anything else.

Harry had hid a smile and leaned in closer to Ron. "Yours and Hermione's, of course. Your entire family have been planning the first new arrival for quite a while now. George even had a bet on whether it would be a boy or a girl."

That had come as a shock to them both, realising that everyone they cared about had been planning their future for years, even down to which gender their baby would be. It had made their friendship rather awkward, and for a time Ron and Hermione had kept their distance for fear someone would think they were getting close again. But now all that had passed, and there was no danger of anyone assuming they would become an item. Ron had found someone, a lovely girl named Winifred (or Winnie as everyone had nicknamed her), and they had recently got engaged. Hermione was happy for them both, she really was, and she only occasionally had to swallow her resentment, knowing she could very well have been in Winnie's place not that long ago. It wasn't even really Ron that she wanted, but that sense of true belonging; being a part of such a close circle of family and friends… she missed that. It was hard staying so close with everyone when you lived in the muggle world and worked in a muggle shop. But of course, it had been her decision to sever so many ties with her past, and she could hardly blame everyone else for the consequences of her actions.

Hermione blinked suddenly, having only just realised she had walked right past her flat. Hurrying back along the pavement, she fished around in her deep coat pocket for her keys and trudged up the steps and inside. The hallway was dark and cold, something she had grown rather used to what with autumn having been approaching since the middle of August this year. Unlocking her door, she half fell inside before closing it firmly behind her. She took a moment to take in her familiar surroundings before switching on lights, turning on the radiators, and going to make herself a nice cup of tea. While the kettle boiled, she checked her post and then her voicemail, not expecting to hear anything remotely interesting or exciting. It had been a long time since anything unexpected had happened to her.

"You have one new message. Message one: 'Okay, so I know you're going to hate me, and believe me, I did everything I could to try and get you out of it, but Mum is insistent. And so is Winnie. And you know what they're like when they gang up on me. They're like a pack of wolves, I tell you! Anyway, sorry… rambling... em… where was I? Oh yes! We're having a big get together, and I mean a proper get together – as in, a proper, Weasley get together. And Mum wants you to come. Well, everyone does, including me, actually. But I know you'll be tired, and I know you probably wanted a quiet night in. I bet you've just sat down, right? About to watch some stupid, horrible muggle show with a cup of tea and a Jaffa cake. I know you, Hermione Granger, you have become very set in your ways since leaving us magical people behind. Anyway, not the point. Look, if you can come, then please do, but I understand if you don't want to. Though be prepared to get an earful when you next come to see us. Anyway, I think my time is about to run out. Come if you can – eight o' clock at ours – and if you can't then good luck! Bye!'"

Hermione let out an audible groan before burying her head in a cushion. Ron had hit the nail on the head – a quiet night in was exactly what she had been planning, and now he had practically guilt tripped her into going to a massive, Weasley reunion. That meant everyone would be going, no excuses. And that meant questions. Awkward, horrible, uncomfortable questions. So how have you been, Hermione? Still living in that flat? Still working at that shop? When are you going to start doing magic again? Why did you stop, anyway? How's your love life? No boyfriend? What, a pretty thing like you? And on and on it would go, for the entire night. There would be plenty of people, which meant the same questions being asked over and over again. And she would have to smile politely at them all, answering each as if she had never heard it before. She would have to make an effort, when all she really wanted to do was curl up under the covers and sleep.

Kicking the side of the sofa, she pushed herself upright and kicked off her boots before making her way through to her bedroom, already trying to force her mind into action long enough for her to pick an outfit. Not too extravagant, but not too casual either. It was at times like these that she hated being a girl. She used to envy Harry and Ron, the way they put on anything that looked semi-clean and end up looking fine, but anything she wore was judged by every other girl. She had to make the right impression tonight – that she was in control, professional, happy with her life. How the hell could clothes say that?

Opening her wardrobe and assessing the rather depressing situation, Hermione took one deep breath before braving the terrifying mess of clothes before her, already dreading the evening to come.


	2. Lightning Never Strikes Twice

Lightning Never Strikes Twice (Unless You're Really Unlucky)

It was freezing, something which Hermione had never really anticipated when she stepped out of her flat wearing a simple wrap around dress and a very thin jacket. But it was too late now, and she would be late if she went back to her flat to grab her coat. Instead, she continued down Diagon Alley in search of a quick present for Molly and Arthur to say thank you for their hospitality. It was weird being back, especially at this time of night – Diagon Alley transformed into a rather shadowy and strange place once darkness fell, and Hermione had no intention of staying any longer than she had to. She felt particularly nervous when walking passed the Leaky Cauldron, a place she had never liked even as a young student. The smell of alcohol was pungent as she crossed the road away from it, and the odour was only intensified when the door opened and a drunken customer was thrown onto the cobbled street, slurring and spluttering as he tried and failed to stand.

For a second, Hermione considered helping the poor old soak, now attempting to pull himself up with the aid of the wall, but quickly decided against it. She was going to be late, and she was determined to get something for the Weasley's, even if it was only flowers from one of the many stalls dotted between shops. However, all thoughts of tulips and roses quickly evaporated when the man dropped back to the floor, the hood of his coat falling back off his hair and revealing a very familiar face.

The world seemed to tip on its axis as Hermione took in the dirty blonde hair, the pale skin, the grey eyes… Her stomach lurched and she could almost feel her scar burning into her arm all over again. Many had offered to erase the word scored into her skin, but while she hated to see it every time she rolled up her sleeve, she knew that it was the one reminder she wanted to keep from that time. In some ways, she was proud of it. But that being said, she had never had any intention of meeting the boy whose family had persecuted her and tortured her in their home, especially when he had done nothing to save her.

Moving slowly so as not to attract his attention, Hermione quietly began to walk back the way she had come, realising that the Weasley's reunion would just have to wait until she could get safely away from Draco. Her heels clipped lightly on the cobbles, and Hermione cursed herself for having ever thought these fancy shoes were a good idea.

And then she heard it. It was faint at first, so faint she kept walking. But then it grew until eventually she, and her pride especially, could not ignore it. Draco Malfoy, currently lying in the gutter looking like a battered corpse, was laughing. And it wasn't the drunken giggle Hermione was sometimes prone to – this was a sarcastic, sinister laugh, and she knew without turning that he was laughing at her.

"Oh, Miss. Granger, you never fail to disappoint."

His voice was still icy and bitter even when the actual words had merged and slurred together. It cut through her, but she refused to shudder – there was no way in Hell she was going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had had any kind of effect on her.

"Excuse me, Mr Malfoy, but I have a pressing engagement to attend, and I don't want to be late," she replied, surprising herself at how polite she sounded. It was taking everything she had not to kick him while he was down.

Malfoy hauled himself into a sitting position and his eyes slid upwards until they met her cold stare. His eyebrow raised for a fraction of a second before falling back into place, and it infuriated Hermione that she had no idea what he was thinking. You could usually count on the Malfoys to say exactly what popped into their sadistic, little minds.

"Yes, I can see that. And is this _pressing engagement _in the literal sense – I assume that you and Weasel are at least planning on tying the knot?"

Hermione was so stunned by such a personal enquiry that she had nothing to say for a good minute. But then her anger resurfaced with a vengeance, and suddenly she had very little regard or time for politeness.

"None of your damn business. I have a life, and that may be a disgusting thought to you, and you may hate me even being alive, but at least I'm not drowning in fire whiskey every night. I'm brave enough to face my fears, instead of hiding in the bottom of a bottle."

Had she been too harsh? Now that she had said it, the overwhelming mix of panic and guilt jolted her heart and she gulped, seriously thinking Malfoy may very well draw his wand. But instead of seeing his expression darken, Hermione could only see acceptance in his eyes. Draco Malfoy, protégée to the Dark Lord himself, had accepted Hermione's jibe at his life. It was the alcohol, Hermione assumed, it was the only reasonable explanation for his more than odd behaviour.

"Anything else to add?" he finally asked, his arms now folded across his chest as he leant back against the wall.

Hermione took a moment to assess the insane situation she had found herself in, realising only now that she was talking to Draco in the middle of the night, with him slumped on the ground and her about to attend a family get together at the Weasley's. It was surreal, and yet she was more surprised at how unsurprised she was. It seemed, even after all this time, she hadn't become fully accustomed to the mundane world of muggles.

"I don't think so. Anyway, I really do have to go…" She paused, looked up at the darkening sky and shivered. "You should get inside. It's getting cold out here," she added, though she had no idea why.

He looked at her, smiled, and then nodded feebly. Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, now unsure what to do, and finally began walking back along Diagon Alley, intending to call Ron and ask him nicely to pick her up. It was too dark for her to get there on her own now, and she was freezing.

She shivered again, pulled her mobile from her pocket, and as she was dialling the familiar number, Hermione took one last look back at the man still hunched beneath the street lamp. He looked pitiable, and almost blue, she now thought. His shoulders were shaking and his frayed coat was practically ripping as he pulled it tighter around himself.

As her phone began to dial the number, Hermione automatically pressed cancel and hurried back to Draco, who had heard her heels coming and looked up instinctively. She pulled her flimsy jacket from around her shoulders and shoved it at him rather awkwardly.

"Like I said – it's cold."

Then she ran off into the night, her mind whirling at the enormity of what she had just done.

…

The car ride back to her flat was one spent in silence, the only noise coming from the rather rickety heater spurting out occasional bursts of hot air whenever it felt like it. Ron hadn't said a word since they had entered the car, and his face was like thunder. She had tried to make small talk in the beginning, but after about ten minutes of only getting a grunt as a response, she had given up. If he was intent on being this stubborn, then who was she to spoil his fun?

As the car began to make its descent, however, juddering downwards and skimming across the rooftops of other houses, Ron finally spoke.

"I really don't see why you bothered coming."

Perhaps if it had been any other night, Hermione may have taken that comment on the chin and put it down to him stressing over the wedding, but it had been a very long and emotional day, and Hermione had had it up to here with having to pretend to be polite and courteous when all she felt like doing was sleeping.

"I _bothered _because you asked me to come, and that's what friends do. But you knew, Ronald, as did everyone else, that I would be tired and grumpy and over-worked, so don't you dare blame me if that's exactly what I was when I arrived," she spat back, getting angrier by the second. Not even bloody Draco Malfoy had made her this mad, and his family had tortured her!

Ron veered to the left to avoid a chimney and came crashing to the ground with a loud bang, something she was sure had been done just to annoy her further, or to prove just how livid he was.

"Yes, I did know. But I thought that, being my so-called friend, and being such a close friend of my family, you would have made a bit more of an effort. Winnie tried to speak to you three times, Hermione, and you blanked her. She's my fiancée and you ignored her!" he yelled, slamming his fist down on the dashboard and making her jump. She wanted to get out of the car and walk the rest of the way home, but she could feel the cold seeping through the crack in the window, and without her jacket she wouldn't make it five minutes.

"I didn't know she was talking to me, I said that to you! And I apologised to her afterwards and then had a lovely conversation with her. I'm tired, Ron! I'm tired of having to live up to everyone else's expectations of me, I'm tired of having to answer the same bloody questions over and over again, and I am sick to the back teeth of you and Harry watching me all the time as if I'm a stranger!"

"What do you expect?!" Ron yelled back. "You have completely cut yourself off from everyone! You live in a muggle flat, you work in a muggle shop, you don't practise magic anymore. What are we supposed to think? It's like you're going through some kind of mid-life crisis." His voice had begun to lower, but Hermione could already feel hers rising again.

"I'm twenty-one! And just because I happened to take a few years out, doesn't mean I am suddenly a different person! I managed just fine for over eleven years in the muggle world – I've spent longer in the muggle world than out of it, so I don't understand why it comes as such a shock to you that I might actually miss it. Magic isn't the be all and end all, you know!"

Her cheeks were flushed now and her hands had clenched into tight balls by her sides. She just wanted to go home, and the longer she stayed in this car, with Ron, the angrier she was going to get.

Ron sighed and put the car into gear before driving down the street at an infuriatingly slow speed. Nothing was said for several long minutes, but eventually she knew he couldn't stand leaving it at that.

"We're worried, Hermione. All of us. Even George has noticed something's wrong, and he's even more oblivious than I am. Ginny was thinking of coming to stay with you for a bit, just to make sure you weren't… you know…"

Hermione's head snapped round to look at him. "What? What does she think I'm doing?"

He didn't have to say it for her to know – his expression said it all.

"Merlin's beard, she thinks I'm harming myself! How messed up do you all think I am? I stop doing magic for a bit and everyone suddenly thinks I'm suicidal!" she exclaimed. If it wasn't so ridiculous it would be laughable.

"No, not suicidal exactly. But you have to admit, it is pretty odd. You get straight A's right the way through Hogwarts, even in our last year you still managed to beat everyone else, and then suddenly you drop off the radar completely. You're living in a one bedroom flat, in a shop you barely need a brain at all to work in, and you never see anyone. What are we supposed to think?"

Hermione opened the car door as Ron was still driving, counting on him to stop the car as soon as she did so. He kept driving.

"It's not that I don't understand – there was a time when I wanted to run away and start again, but I had responsibilities. Mum and Dad and George and Ginny… We were all grieving for Fred-"

Hermione slammed the door shut. "Don't you think I know that? Don't you dare try and guilt trip me, Ronald. I know your family was grieving – I lost people too, including both my parents if you remember – and it has nothing to do with running away at all. I wasn't hiding from my _duties_, I was getting away from everything magic had brought with it. I was a much happier person when I was just an ordinary muggle."

"You don't mean that – you would never have met any of us if you hadn't found out you were a witch."

"No, exactly. Which means I would never have had to lose them. I watched people die, Ron. I watched them have the life snuffed out like a candle flame. I was tortured and sneered at and bullied. Don't make out like Hogwarts was all sunshine and roses. My life was made a living hell because of who I was… what I was."

Ron bowed his head at this, remembering clearly all the torment Hermione received for being a muggle. "But there were good times, too. You have to admit that."

Hermione sighed and rubbed her aching forehead. "I know. I'm not saying that the war tainted all my happy memories of Hogwarts, but it changed them. I no longer see them as being single, happy events, but just a timeline to all the horror and pain that came afterwards. I've tried not to, but I will never be able to rid myself of all those images. I can't Ron. They plague me like a disease, and I can't shake them."

There was a moment where all he could do was process everything she had said, and then finally he took her hand in his, and squeezed it tightly. She smiled gratefully at him and once the car had slowed to a stop, she got out. She was both relieved and irritated when she heard his own door opening.

"Can you promise me one thing?" he asked, walking round the side of the car and standing in front of her, his hands on either side of her shoulders.

"What?"

"Will you promise to call, or write? Just… I don't want to lose you too, Hermione. I can't."

She forced the tears to stay down and nodded, feeling very much like a small girl before him. When had he grown so tall and so mature? She swore he had been a boy only a moment ago.

He brushed his hand against her hair and pulled her into a hug which she gladly accepted, content to be in the warmth of his arms. She began to pull away, her eyes closed to the night sky, and felt his nose caress her cheek before feeling his lips on hers. She leaned in automatically, sighing as her lips moulded to the shape of Ron's. And all too suddenly he pulled back, realising what they had done.

"Oh God…" she whispered, her eyes fluttering open to see Ron's terrified expression.

"I'm sorry-" he began but got no further as he pressed a hand over his mouth.

They had kissed. Ron was engaged, and he had just kissed her. And she had kissed him back.

"It was nothing," Hermione said, unsure if that was really true. But he nodded all the same, and she tried not to let it hurt.

"You needed some comfort," he replied, as though by way of excusing them both of what had just happened. It fell far short of the mark.

"It was nothing," Hermione repeated numbly, unable to stop looking at Ron's shocked and horrified stare.

Ron nodded, a hand still covering his mouth, and began to back away from her towards the car, bumping into the wing-mirror before bolting round to the drivers side. "I'll see you... at some point."

"Yes. Definitely. At some point." Her voice shook and she tried not to cry as he gave her yet another shocked glance before turning on the ignition and trundling down the cobbled street into the night. She stood on the pavement, visibly shaking from the cold and the fear, and tried to make sense of her emotions. Ron had kissed her. And he was engaged. But he had kissed her. And she had kissed him. And they had kissed.

"Oh God," she whispered, gasping as she succumbed to tears and leaned against the lampost next to her. She allowed one sob, just one, great, choking sob before she clamped a hand over her mouth and forced herself to stop. Crying wasn't going to help, nor was self-pity, and she had to try and process everything in her mind. She was good at that, she always had been, and if anyone could come up with a reasonable, sensible solution then it was her.

Folding her arms across her chest for warmth, Hermione hurried along the familiar street and ignored the unknown feeling creeping into her mind. It was perhaps the first time she had ever felt completely clueless before – she had no idea what to do, how to make this right. She had kissed her best friend, her best friend that was getting married. She had betrayed Winnie, and Ron's entire family, and all her friends. She had _kissed Ron_. Hermione couldn't believe how stupid she'd been, how emotional she had become. It wasn't like her to let her heart rule her head, if that was indeed what had happened. But she couldn't even begin to comprehend the thought that she still had feelings for Ron. She had loved him once, she could admit that now, but she didn't any more. She did not love him, because he loved Winnie and she had moved on as well. He was just a friend, a friend she had happened to kiss.

The front door key dropped from her shaking hand and she growled, kicking the door in frustration before retrieving it from the pavement where it had rolled down onto. A cold wind was rising from behind her, whistling through the trees and making the night come alive, and she hurried to push the key into the lock and yanked the door open, determined to get inside.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

She had one foot over the threshold. She was so close to being home, so close to being alone with her thoughts. She was desperate to have a little time to herself to think, and now that had all gone. Because behind her, on the opposite side of the street, half-obscured by the shadow of a tree, was Draco Malfoy, slumped against the black, iron railings with her jacket tucked under his arm. He looked like death.

Hermione sighed, tugged the key back out of the door and held it open, gesturing for him to enter. "If I must," she replied, and tried not to shiver when he passed by her into the hallway.


End file.
